Twenty Moments In Time
by morph
Summary: Twenty 11th Doctor drabbles written for a challenge. Spans the 5th season with some spoilers.


AN: These twenty drabbles were written for a challenge on livejournal. I chose the 11th Doctor as my claim. Some of these contain spoilers for Season 5 of Doctor Who. The BBC owns everything.

* * *

><p><span>Mirror<span>

Prisoner Zero has shifted again, and the Doctor looks in confusion at the new form it has taken from Amy's brain.

A skinny man in rumpled, ill-fitting clothing – shirt half untucked, tie loose around his neck. He has a mop of dark hair, a slightly narrow face and calculating eyes.

"Well, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be?"

"That's you," Rory says.

The Doctor realises he's getting his first look at a mirror image of himself. Can't say he's too impressed, but he's had worse. Must get rid of the old Doctor's clothes he's still wearing though. They're not him.

* * *

><p><span>Minor<span>

"_How could I have been so stupid? Why did I drink that... water tasted funny. Funny wrong, not funny ha-ha... Amazing..."_ he thought as his vision grew dim, _"...how something so minor, as tiny as aspirin, could have such a big effect..."_

"Doctor, can you hear me?" Amy's voice cut through the sound of his hearts hammering in his ears. She sounded scared. He wanted to tell her something, but couldn't make his tongue work. "He's starting to glow, Rory. I don't understand, it was just some pills dissolved in water! It was mine, but he drank it by mistake..."

* * *

><p><span>Mimic<span>

Another thing has been made clear; this particular regeneration isn't a very good dancer. That's not going to stop him from dancing at Amy and Rory's wedding though. So many good memories come with dancing, and this is another. The Doctor lets his body go, feeling the music and having the purest fun.

Imitation is the highest form of flattery, so they say. So the best thing about his dancing at the wedding is the children who chose his moves to mimic. With any luck, those moves will be the next big thing is Britain.

Well, a man can dream.

* * *

><p><span>Minute<span>

The first trip with his new/old favourite girl; The TARDIS is shining glass, bronze and copper. The frozen rain drop in the Time Rotor gently pulses up and down. She sits serenely on the moon. The Doctor takes a minute to close his eyes and open his mind to their psychic link. Gone is the painful, frantic self-repair static. She fills his mind like fresh water in a jug.

"_You are beautiful. My brilliant TARDIS – the best ship in the universe."_

He hears her sing a new song just for him.

"_Now we just need someone to share this with..."_

* * *

><p><span>Middle<span>

In the middle of his hearts there is a hole caused by the destruction of his planet and his people. He once had haunting hope that it could be filled.

But fate rolled its dice, and, for better or worse, he is without Time Lord companionship again. He's settled that he's the last of his kind, relying on his companions and his TARDIS.

This is why it stings deep in his hearts when he faces Alaya of the Silurians, his one link to saving Amy and the others, and she tells him that she's the last of her species. Insulting.

* * *

><p><span>Horror<span>

He sometimes enjoys the fact that the monsters are afraid of them. There are probably planets out there with villainous aliens who warn their offspring with his tales. "Eat your greens and go to bed, or the Doctor will come and get you!"

That's what crosses his mind when he stares down the giant eye attached to the ship that once threatened Earth. The eye widens in fear, reading about what happened to the Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans...

New face, voice and body, but the threat remains.

"Hello. I'm the Doctor. Basically... run."

The Atraxi don't have to be told twice.

* * *

><p><span>Humour<span>

It's important, the Doctor believes, to almost always maintain a sense of humour. When one has to choose between laughing and crying, he'd rather laugh.

Angel Bob is calling him again. The Doctor isn't worried. Well, that's a lie, of course he's worried. This batch of Weeping Angels are particularly violent, very determined to kill them and spread throughout the galaxy... but the Doctor and company safe for now on the flight deck.

"We've got comfy chairs, did I mention?" he tells Angel Bob.

"We have no need of comfy chairs."

The Doctor grins. "I made him say 'comfy chairs.'"

* * *

><p><span>HurtComfort

It was a bad break, no doubt about it. He could hear her quiet whimpers of pain in his mind as he contemplated what to do. A fix was badly needed before they could continue, but it would take time. The Doctor landed the TARDIS, _(Careful... Sorry, Old Girl, I know it hurts...)_ and sent Amy and Rory off to explore the markets of Canadmanipegwinntoba. Then he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

He sang his TARDIS a quiet Gallifreyan lullaby as he welded the new part in place. She clung to his mind until the pain eased.

* * *

><p><span>Historical<span>

Vincent's depression makes him think he's unimportant, that he doesn't matter. The Doctor disagrees – he believes that everyone is important, but the effort comes in convincing others of that. No one sees the universe quite like Vincent, and few ever will again. The Doctor feels like he owes him a kindness for saving his and Amy's lives.

So they take Vincent to the future and show him that he will become one of the most loved painters in history. It over-whelms poor Vincent, how much his useless art will someday be appreciated. It also gives him hope, and that's good.

* * *

><p><span>Heroic<span>

He's done many bad things. He tries to save everyone, but just can't sometimes. No matter what he does, someone will always get hurt or killed. He's useless if he's not saving the world, and half the time, he messes that up anyways.

But each life, city and planet he _does_ manage to save is to make up for all the ones he's lost, all the alien races extinct. It extends to the people whose lives he's changed for the better, and now they're saving the world as well when they can. It's how he manages to live with himself.

* * *

><p><span>Apples<span>

There are many troubles and complicated things when it comes to getting used to a new body, new mouth, new tongue and new taste buds. He emerged from the smoking TARDIS soaking wet and craving apples. They must be his favourite food; why else would he want one so badly?

From that first bite, he knew he was wrong. Suddenly too sweet! Apple juice squirting from firm white flesh and he rejected it immediately, spitting it all over Amelia's kitchen floor.

Many months later, he tried another one. Amy had cut a smiley face onto it. That made it better.

* * *

><p><span>Comfort Food<span>

He found her in the TARDIS kitchen, wearing a woolly jumper and socks over her pyjamas. She was eating chocolate ice cream out of the container. Amy looked at him when he entered and smiled. He returned it quietly. She usually only ate anything chocolate once a month, as her internal body clock ticked.

The Doctor went to the fridge and ice box, on a mission. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I had a nightmare."

A few minutes later, he sat across from her at the table with a plate of fish fingers and a bowl of custard. "Wanna tell me about it?"

* * *

><p><span>Jammy Dodger<span>

He never plans ahead - the type who falls off a building and works out what to do about it on the way down.

He lands on the stricken Dalek ship, mind and hearts racing. Most of his plan relies on his reputation with the Daleks, hoping they still fear The Oncoming Storm. No time to rig a real explosion, but he has a jammy dodger in his pocket. He had wanted to eat it with a cup of tea, but now it'll add to his legend.

Only the Doctor would dare to fend off the Daleks with a biscuit.

* * *

><p><span>Wedding Cake<span>

It was a magnificent wedding cake; tall, with prefect white icing and deep red ribbon and little green wreaths around each tier. The parents of the bride had shelled out extra to get the little figures on top to look just like Amy and Rory dressed in their wedding finery. The Doctor, in his tuxedo, grinned like a fool when he was served his slice.

"I _love_ wedding cake, did I mention?" he said, in-between forkfuls. He licked icing off his chin.

Amy smiled, still happy to see him again after what seemed like forever. "I never would have guessed."

* * *

><p><span>Omelette Fines Herbes Pour Deux<span>

Two eggs cracked into a frying pan. Add ground pepper, grated cheese, some salt, ham, mayo (he thinks it is mayo, didn't bother looking at the label for very long) and stir into an omelette. It turns out deliciously. Just a little thing the Doctor picked up in Paris in the eighteenth century. He loves the French. They are masters at many things, including food. When you're cooking with limited recourses, you have to be creative. It's as true in the twenty-first century as it was back then - a good tip for any humble (or not so humble) individual.

* * *

><p><span>Good Bye<span>

Memories swell in his head as the Doctor stands in front of the grave. He opens that door in his mind and steps through, thinking of those days many regenerations ago. He knows it'll happen to all of them eventually, but it always hurts. It's this ripping at his hearts he wanted to avoid. He spent his tenth life trying to run away from it, but not anymore.

Amy and Rory are by his side. "Who was he?"

"An old friend." He lowers himself and traces the letters on the stone with his long fingers. "Thank you, Brigadier. Good Bye."

* * *

><p><span>Say It<span>

"_Are you going to say it?"_

"_Say what?" _He flicks a switch.

"_That I was right."_ The TARDIS prods the memories of all the psychic talks they had while he was travelling dangerously alone. _"She stopped you from going too far, my Doctor. She saw the things you couldn't, put everything together and saved the Star Whale."_

The Doctor sighs. "Yes, yes, you're right," he mumbles, disliking it when the TARDIS nags. "Can we move on now?"

"_Of course. Always."_

"What was that?" Amy asks.

He looks up at her and smiles. "Nothing, never mind. So, where to next, Pond?"

* * *

><p><span>Children<span>

The Doctor likes children. He thinks they're little geniuses, always pointing out the obvious, seeing the little things the adults miss. They have a proper sense of innocence and wonder.

But with young babies, he's helpless. Amy Williams (formally Pond) looks like a planet. She could give birth at any minute he's incredibly nervous. He's sitting in their cottage, smiling, talking and eating a cupcake, but the whole time he's looking at her, trying not to worry about that little life inside.

Still... something niggles at his mind. Something's off.

He can't help but feel that he must be dreaming.

* * *

><p><span>What If?<span>

Suddenly Amy had him up against the TARDIS, kissing him. Alarmed, the Doctor tried to push her away... but fleetingly thought _"what if I _do_ take her up on her offer?"_ Due to time travel, the night before her wedding could last forever. His hearts hammered at the thought. Then he saw an image of little Amelia at a table eating ice cream out of the container with the ice cream scoop.

"_No, this isn't right."_ Rory is waiting for her to grow old and have children with. The Doctor can't have that kind of life. He pushed her away.

* * *

><p><span>Half Way<span>

He's hunted by the darkness. It's the dark, dangerous part of his soul – the Oncoming Storm, the man the monsters fear, the evil wizard, the Trickster.

But that can't be all he is. He loves life too much; he strives to save lives and planets when he can. It's only woe unto those who stand in his way.

He loves Christmas because even in the darkness, there can be a shining light. It reminds the Doctor that it's unfortunately necessary to keep that dark side for when it's needed, but he must keep one half of himself in the light.


End file.
